


Guilty Pleasure

by idfkwhatimdoing



Category: The Transformers (IDW Generation One)
Genre: Double Penetration, M/M, Oral Sex, Rough Sex, dubcon
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-19
Updated: 2015-02-19
Packaged: 2018-03-13 19:39:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,931
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3393866
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/idfkwhatimdoing/pseuds/idfkwhatimdoing
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Brainstorm makes a sandwich.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Guilty Pleasure

**Author's Note:**

> I haven't written fanfic in a hot minute.  
> Be gentle.

When he woke up and tried to move, he felt the cuffs tighten around his wrists.  He was tied up.  Confined.  He tugged at his binds and grunted in halfhearted disappointment when they refused to yield.  They were above his head- a very uncomfortable position for a microscope.  He managed to online his optics, his reticle coming into focus on the figure standing over him.  “Brainstorm?  What… What are you-?”  His voice cracked; full of static and broken whirrs.  He wasn’t necessarily afraid of what might happen.  He knew Brainstorm wouldn’t take it _too_ far.

“I’m glad you asked!”  The jet leaned in, his mask retracting.  “We’re sick of you getting your way all the time.  One didn’t know any better, I’d say you’re sucking spike somewhere.  Top scientist, indeed.”  His voice was low and almost seductive.  Almost.  Perceptor concluded that his colleague needed to work on his game more.  You certainly don’t tackle your fuck interest and tie him to a- wait…

Perceptor tugged at the cuffs again, optics settling on a familiar figure standing off to the side.  “Atomizer?”  He didn’t know the designer beyond his obsession with the pompous valve slut now straddling his waist.  Atomizer had his mask retracted as well, revealing a smug little smirk that mimicked Brainstorm’s in every way.  He must practice his facial expressions to impress Brainstorm.  He must keep his mouth hidden out of fear of _displeasing_ Brainstorm.

Brainstorm.

Brainstorm.

Brainstorm.

“He’s here to have fun, too.  Can’t he have fun, Perceptor?  Or is that against regulations.  I’ll gladly break a rule or two, if just to see you let go.”  Brainstorm leaned down to purr against the sniper’s audial.  “I bet you and Drift have done this so many times.  Does he like being tied down?  You like riding him or is he the type to enjoy having his valve _wrecked_ by a thick spike?  Hmm?”

Perceptor bucked his hips in a poor attempt to throw the engineer off.  “Untie me,” he demanded firmly.  He was getting turned on by the mental images of being in a similar situation with Drift.  Primus, that one.  His rebuild was nothing short of fantastic; the shapely hips, the narrow waist and that sleek, pristine armor.  The sniper could feel his array ping to life- of course Brainstorm rubbing against his panel wasn’t helping matters.

“Atomizer.”  Brainstorm hovered over the sniper and opened his own panel, his valve cover following.  He wiggled his aft, luring Atomizer in like a bee to honey.  His valve was already leaking and twitching- it was begging for attention.  “Come on, get it ready for him,” he instructed, wings trembling with anticipation.

The archer crawled onto the berth and ran his hands over Brainstorm’s hip armor.  He’s dreamt about this very moment!

“Quit stalling!” growled the engineer.

Atomizer shuddered and drew two fingers over the jet’s entrance, mesmerized by how it tried so desperately to coax them inside- the hungry witch to his Hansel and Gretel.  And Primus did Brainstorm want something in his oven, _stat_.  He was such a slut, that Brainstorm.

Perceptor was just lying there, watching intently as his colleague pressed back onto the fingers, causing them to slip inside.  He knew, just by the look on Brainstorm’s face, that Hansel and Gretel were no more.

“Damn, you’re really tight,” Atomizer exclaimed, clearly surprised by his love interest’s tightness.  He must do exercises with the ol’ Cybertronian valve toning device, produced by Pharma for some reason.  “And here I thought-”

“Shut up!”  Brainstorm grunted, feeling the fingers curl against his internal sensors.  He must have gotten the message as the weapons engineer felt the thick digits thrust in and out, scissoring and stretching.  The jet planted his hands at Perceptor’s shoulders and began moving, feeling more lubricant escape him.

“O-Open your panel, Perceptor.”

The former Wrecker blew a gust of air through his vents and retracted his panel and spike cover.  He had finally come to terms with the situation and knew that once he got them off, he would be a free mech.  Besides, they weren’t so terribly bad looking, and they would be too busy moaning and crying to say much of anything else.  And he would have some relief as well, so it was really a win win.

Atomizer stiffened as he felt Perceptor’s spike brush up against his thigh.  He looked down and pressed his fingers deeper into the jet.  Curious, he reached with his free hand and trailed a single digit along the spike’s underbelly.  “You sure about this, Brainstorm?” he asked, almost feeling a little jealous.

“Of course I’m sure!  I’m always sure.”  Brainstorm’s attention was immediately drawn back to Perceptor’s face as his fellow scientist began to show signs of pleasure.  “I bet he’s as hard as that fancy chestplate of his~”

“He’s fucking _huge._ ”

“Of course he is!  Now, eat my valve.”

Atomizer did as he was told and reluctantly withdrew his fingers, replacing them with his glossa.  He licked at the outside first- paying special attention to the outer node- before plunging inside.  He moaned against the jet’s array and began thrusting his pelvic armor against Perceptor’s rigid spike.

“Yes… Yes, just like that…”  Brainstorm nearly purred, his valve fluttering around the wet glossa rolling and flexing against the mesh lining.  “You should be doing this, Perceptor.  Put that mouth to good use.”  _Other than berating me with it._ “I bet you do it to Drift all the time.  I bet he tastes good.  Do Decepticons taste good, Perceptor?  You seem to have… a _thing_ for them.”

There was suddenly a defiant look in the sniper’s optic.  “Like the sweetest energon,” he replied huskily, finishing with a grunt as he felt Atomizer rut against his spike.  He lifted his head, only to be pushed back down to the berth.

“I’m sure I taste much better than that _skank_.”

Perceptor narrowed his optic and tried to buck his hips again, causing both Brainstorm and Atomizer to nearly topple over.  The latter hastily retracted his panel and spike cover, caring little for how quickly he pressurized.  He was getting eager to do more than just tease that delicious valve before him.  Non, he wanted to pound his idol’s aft into oblivion and make him scream louder than Siren.

Atomizer was now vigorously rubbing his spike against Perceptor’s as he continued to lap away at Brainstorm’s seeping valve.  Even the sniper’s control was beginning to waver as he was stimulated by the act- an act Drift often referred to as ‘crossing swords.’  It was obviously something leftover from his time in New Crystal City.

Brainstorm shifted, pulling away from the archer.  “Time for the _real_ show, gentlemen.”  He flashed a smirk at Perceptor and reached behind him, taking the spike away from Atomizer- much to Atomizer’s dismay.  The engineer pressed down against the head, the rim of his valve stretching to accommodate the size; he gradually slid down the length of the scientist’s spike, savoring every little ridge that grazed his sensors.  He’s never felt so full in his life, not even when he allowed Ultra Magnus to take him.  That mech was clearly overcompensating; he had one of the smallest dicks on the Lost Light.  Brainstorm would admit that he was more than a _little_ disappointed.

Perceptor’s jaw tightened as he resisted thrusting up into the other scientist.  He tugged at the cuffs again, another growl tearing through his throat.

“Impatient, are we?”  Brainstorm rose up, giving Atomizer room to position himself.  He didn’t get an answer.  He wasn’t really expecting one, anyway.

“Oh, man…”  The designer pressed against Brainstorm’s back, his chest vibrating with an eager rumble.  He pressed up into the valve and forced it wider with his girth.  He wasn’t as big as Perceptor, but he wasn’t small, either.  What brought him the most pleasure was how Brainstorm arched with a stifled groan of pain.  “Want me to pull out?”

“No, no.  I got this.” 

Beneath them, Perceptor was doing his best to restrain himself, but the pressure was too much.  He pulled harder at the cuffs and snapped his hips, sending his spike deeper and causing a shrill cry to escape the two instigators.

Atomizer clawed at the armor at Brainstorm’s hips and began thrusting roughly against the other spike, matching Perceptor’s movements.  He was doing something he had only dreamt of.  He not only had one head scientist- he had two.  His systems were flooded with bliss and pride; he was contributing to the jet’s moans and pleas for more.  It was almost too much for him.  To hold off, the archer pressed closer and began kissing the back of Brainstorm’s wings, his grip tightening.

The jet moved between them, lips parted in sheer ecstasy as he stared down at Perceptor’s face; they locked optics before Brainstorm rushed in to crush their lips together, his frame jerking as he suddenly came around the two spikes.  He broke the kiss with a sob of pleasure and rode out his overload, huffing air through his vents.  Behind him, Atomizer grunted and increased his pace, thrusting wildly into him.  It almost threw Brainstorm off guard until the two spikes hit that one spot at the back of his valve, drawing another wanton moan from the engineer.

Perceptor felt that familiar warmth spreading out from his array as the pressure began to build in his spike.  He gave another hard tug at his cuffs.  “You feel like a ‘Con,” he murmured gruffly against Brainstorm’s audial.  Before the winged scientist could retort, Atomizer overloaded and pressed deeply, coaxing another noise from Brainstorm’s abused vocalizer.  Thankfully, Perceptor wasn’t too far behind, pumping more fluid into the stretched valve.

The three slumped together on the berth, ventilation systems struggling to cool their heated frames.  Perceptor pulled at his binds one last time and twisted his frame to get Brainstorm’s attention.  “Let me go.”

“But I-”

“Now.”

“Can’t we just-”

“No.”

Atomizer crawled over the jet and unlocked the cuffs, letting them fall from Perceptor’s wrists.  The sandwiched Brainstorm unleashed a flood of curses as he was pressed between them, his face crushed against the sniper’s chest.  The movement caused Atomizer to slip out, followed by Perceptor and a rush of fluid.

Brainstorm whined in a mixture of embarrassment and pleasure.  “Get off,” he growled at the archer and pushed himself up.  “Atomizer!  Control yourself.”  He pointed angrily at the mech’s still-erect spike.

“But when you get upset…”

Perceptor watched them for a moment.  The chemistry between them was unmistakable, and he would wish them all the best.

“I’m not angry!  This is how I am!  Always.”

Perceptor smirked briefly.  Yes, he would agree.

“I know.”

“Wait, does that mean… You’re always…?”

Perceptor turned his full attention to Atomizer as he waited for his reply.  The poor mech looked embarrassed and ashamed.  It was a side to him he’s never seen before.  There was silence on the other end as Brainstorm waited patiently.  Perceptor thought his coworker would love knowing he gave someone a 24-hour hard on, but there were times when he was wrong about things.  And that was okay.

“Your silence is telling,” Brainstorm deadpanned, grabbing the designer.  He closed his panel and mask for the trip down the hall, leaving the other scientist behind.

Perceptor stared at the door, relieved to be alone once again.  But before he could leave the berth and get cleaned up, the door opened, revealing a very smug swordsmech.

“I see you had some fun.”  Drift walked over to pick up the cuffs.  “My turn?”

 


End file.
